


The Costs of War

by thesometimeswarrior



Series: Avatar: The Last Airbender Canon Divergence AUs [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Tearjerker, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To fight to liberate Ba Sing Se was to turn on their nation, on what he surmised was their upbringing, on part of themselves. Pakku could not conceive of that turmoil, could not imagine how they managed to maintain the inner balance to continue to practice their art.  Particularly, he thought, now, as he saw General Iroh stand before his nephew, the Fire Prince Zuko."</p><p>Zuko fights for Ozai, defending Ba Sing Se from the Order of the White Lotus. He and Iroh are both forced to pay the price for it.</p><p>AU in which Zuko never joins Team Avatar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Costs of War

Until this moment, Pakku hadn’t realized how lucky he had it. _Lucky?_ he can almost hear the voice of his younger self ask him. _Your Tribe was invaded; they_ killed _the moon spirit and disabled your bending!_ And this was true. But it meant that his rage, his desire to defeat the Fire Nation, and to take back Ba Sing Se from them, was justified, that he felt it with his whole being, with his whole upbringing, with his whole self. His traditions—and those of his Tribe—had always been important to him, and, though he wore the uniform of the Order of the White Lotus, he fought as a proud Water Tribesman.

This was not the case, he realized suddenly, with Jeong Jeong, with Piando, and especially with the Grand Lotus, General Iroh. (He had been a Fire Nation _Prince_ , for La’s sake!) To fight to liberate Ba Sing Se was to _turn_ on their nation, on what he surmised was their upbringing, on part of themselves. He could not conceive of that turmoil, could not imagine how they managed to maintain the inner balance to continue to practice their art. Particularly, he thought, now, as he saw General Iroh stand before his nephew, the Fire Prince Zuko.

As their troops took Ba Sing Se, their squad—himself, Bumi, Piando, Jeong Jeong, and the Grand Lotus Iroh—worked as a single-minded unit, fanning out to attack and then returning to formation, and they easily advanced to the Earth Kingdom Palace. When they did, they found the prince there, waiting. Bumi and Pakku had stepped forward to attack, but were quickly blocked by a wall of flame.

“NO!” Iroh, held up a hand, and the inhaled, clearly, thought Pakku, to calm himself. When he continued, it was in monotone. “Wait. I wish to speak to him first.” 

The General turned toward to the young man. “Prince Zuko…”

“Uncle,” said the prince in monotone. 

“Please.”

“I have to do this. My father…”

“You don’t, Prince Zuko!”

“I do! Father said that he would restore me as heir! Azula’ll be the Fire Lord, but I’ll be heir to the Phoenix King.” He paused, then finished quietly, as though it were a private admission, “If I defend the city, he’ll finally love me like a son.”

“Prince Zuko, _I_ love you like a son.”

And Pakku saw what a masterful move this was on Ozai's part. Having determined that Iroh was going to lead a liberation force, he sent the one thing that Iroh cared about more than a free Earth Kingdom: his beloved nephew. The Fire Lord, thought Pakku, was willing to bet that Iroh would not sacrifice the young man for the sake of Ba Sing Se. But one glance at the desperation in Iroh's eyes told Pakku that Ozai had been wrong.

“I made my choice, Uncle.”

Iroh closed his eyes and sighed as sad a sigh as Pakku had ever heard. When he spoke, it seemed to be more to himself than to the prince. “I know you have.”

The General turned toward his troops. “Please, I do not want anyone else to be involved in this match. This is between my nephew and me.”

“You want an Agni Kai, Uncle?”

“If that is what you wish to call it,” the old man responded, and only Pakku, who was as old as Iroh, and who had been studying bending his entire life saw the change in Iroh’s stance at the mention of the phrase, how his shoulders sagged, how his back tensed, how his eyebrows drooped.

There was a moment in which no one and nothing moved. Then Zuko fired flames at his uncle with both fists. Blocking them with flames of his own, Iroh lept to the young prince, and placed his palms over Zuko’s fists, quelling the flames. Then, quickly, he placed a hand on Zuko’s chest and shoved him back to the ground. 

Before Zuko could get up, Iroh inhaled deeply—and then again. And then a third time. Pakku was familiar enough with bending techniques to recognize an attempt to calm oneself when he saw one. He also was familiar enough with Iroh to recognize that this many attempts to calm himself were not typical, that normally one would have sufficed, and when he saw the lightning that Iroh finally managed to summon, Pakku understood. Fire could destroy, but it was slow, expansive, sadistic. Lightning was quicker, cleaner. Kinder. 

As soon as Zuko stood, his uncle sent the lightning toward him. But Zuko, with a waterbender’s reflexes and technique, managed, with a great deal of effort, to redirect the lightning back toward Iroh, who was pushed back several feet, but who responded in kind. Lightning was flying in all directions now, and Bumi, fearing that one of their squad would be hit accidentally, called forth barriers out of earth around Iroh and Zuko.

Bumi brought down the walls when the din inside seemed to quiet, and when he did, Pakku inhaled sharply at what he saw. There was a scorch mark on Zuko’s chest, directly over his heart. The young man stood, but was about to topple. And Iroh’s fingers smoldered, as Pakku had learned that Firebenders’ did after particularly powerful techniques. 

Zuko fell, but Iroh’s arms caught him before he hit the ground. The old man—and he never did look more like an old man than he did at this moment, thought Pakku—slowly eased himself close to the ground, still cradling his nephew.

“Un….cle….I’m…s…” said the young man, weakly, gasping. His breathing was ragged, shallow. Pakku knew it would not last much longer.

“Shh,” whispered Iroh to the figure in his arms. “I know, my nephew. It is alright.”

“Un…cle…”

“Shh…It is alright. I am here.” The old man began to rock the young one in his arms. As he did so, he sang softly:

“ _Leaves from the vine_ ,  
_Falling so slow,_  
_Like fragile, tiny shells_ ,  
_Drifting in the foam_.  
_Little solider boy,_  
_Come marching home._  
_Brave solider boy_  
_Comes marching home._ ”

Only after he finished the song, only after the figure in his arms quieted and stilled, did Iroh allow himself to weep, bringing his face down to his nephew’s body as he did so. Jeong Jeong had burnt the Fire Nation insignia off the palace, but Pakku thought that Iroh probably hadn’t noticed or cared. 

The Earth Kingdom was free, but, somehow, that seemed of little consolation.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
